


A steady decline

by kameo_chan



Category: Peacemaker Kurogane
Genre: Drabble, Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-14
Updated: 2011-12-14
Packaged: 2017-10-27 08:22:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/293705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kameo_chan/pseuds/kameo_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Souji is dying in front of his eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A steady decline

There is blood on the rim of the cup when Hijikata takes it from Souji, and he knows, without a doubt, that things are getting worse. The other man's sleeve is raised to his mouth and from here, Souji almost looks as though he's laughing. But the cough he tries so hard to suppress rattles in and out of his chest, wet and choking. Hijikata stares at the cup, eyes fixed on the tiny red flecks as though they hold the answers he seeks. There are far too many of them for his comfort.

Souji only stops when he's too short of breath to cough anymore. When his sleeve falls away it is more red than white and Hijikata can't comprehend how there can be so much blood; how things could've gotten this bad in such a short amount of time. Cup still in hand, he moves closer to Souji and hovers over him protectively. He doesn't ask him how he is feeling, though. There is no sense in asking pointless questions.

Souji waves him away with a wheezy, "Hijikata-san..." and makes placating gestures. Hijikata knows that it's Souji's way to try and soothe away his concern. But it doesn't help at all. Souji is too young and too valuable for this to be happening. He is too brilliant to die, and Hijikata will be damned before he leaves the other man for dead. There is a sudden loud crack and Souji gasps. It sounds painful and ragged. When Hijikata looks down, he is surprised to see that his hand is bleeding. There are clay shards protruding from his palm and he drops what remains of the shattered cup on the tatami with fingers that have suddenly gone numb. The sharp edges are red all over now, and he can't tell which is his blood and which is Souji's.

"Hijikata-san," Souji ventures cautiously, softly. The sound grates on Hijikata's nerves. This is not the bright, sunny Souji he is used to. It is a stranger with a hoarse voice and dark bags beneath his eyes. Hijikata takes a good long look at Souji then, and what he sees displeases him. Souji is wasting away, frail and thin and waif-like. He's slowly reverting back to the boy he used to be, and it makes Hijikata reel with equal parts inane fury and cloying terror. Souji gives him an experimental smile and he notes with black humor that it takes more out him than the coughing did.

"Let me see your hand," Souji says and motions for it like a child eager for a treat. Hijikata lets him remove the slivers of pottery from his hand in silence and looks at the broken cup again instead. Too much red, far too much. This time there were eight different herbs in the brew. Still not enough, Hijikata thinks. His hand throbs angrily, and he turns his gaze back to what Souji is doing. His hands are tender in their work, and softer than Hijikata remembers. He doesn't flinch when Souji dabs the cuts with hot tea water, nor when he binds Hijikata's hand with a strip of cloth. All he can think of is the feathery touch of once-callused hands and how unnaturally weak Souji's grip feels.

"There," Souji says, again too quietly, when he is done. Hijikata grunts in response and flexes his hand. It hurts, but at least it still works. "Don't do that," Souji berates quietly when his quick eyes catch the movement, and there is something in his voice that makes Hijikata blink and reach out with his good hand to smooth back a few stray strands of hair from Souji's clammy forehead.

"We'll try something else tomorrow," he says then, and Souji looks at him with something akin to exasperation. They both know that it doesn't matter what Hijikata puts in his tea; that it isn't a losing battle anymore, but one they've already lost some time ago. Disease has crept up on both of them, even if Souji is the only one who is dying of it. But Hijikata does not and will not accept it though; will not sit idle when the life of one of his most prized subordinates is at stake. And so he waits until Souji gives him a reluctant nod.

He wonders when Souji stopped believing that one more day and one more concoction in his tea might cure him. It doesn't stop Hijikata from running over various remedies and rare, expensive herbs he needs to purchase in his head as Souji leans his fevered face into his palm, though. It does not stop him from believing, however faintly, that tomorrow might bring a small ray of hope.


End file.
